Alien Freak
by Arudon
Summary: Harry Potter: Gryffindor Golden Boy, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One. Harry has so many titles he can't even keep track of them. But there's one that he gave himself a long time ago, one he believes is perfect for him: Freak. Because there's twisted darkness inside all of us, but for him, it get's physical. Specifically, it comes in shiny, black, death
1. Chapter 1

**I am terribly sorry for writing this. I know I have other stories that I should be finishing, and I should be working on those, but this hit me, and I had to. Also, the image is not my own, but belongs to Deviantart. It's called Queenkiller.**

* * *

The small town of Little Hangleton was a quaint little town. Devoid of almost anything interesting that would otherwise capture a traveler's attention. The one exception to this was the old, abandoned manor that sat atop a hill overlooking the whole town. Supposedly, an entire family of perfectly healthy people dropped dead one night, apparently frightened to death. No one knew how they were murdered, nor knew exactly how it had been done. But almost no one, except for trouble making hooligans, ever went inside the house. Everyone… except the old caretaker.

Frank Bryce was very old man, and at his core, a genuinely good one. He had served as the gardener for the Riddle House for many years, and even long after they had died, he continued to live on the grounds as a humble servant, despite the fact that everyone in the village believed that he was the one who had killed the Riddles.

In fact, it was because of this fact that the old man's life was so hard. At the tender age of seventy and sporting a limp, he was not the same man he used to be, and the children of the village knew that. They would constantly tease him and taunt him, tearing up the grounds he worked so hard to care for and protect with their motorbikes, and constantly breaking into the Riddle house as "dares".

All of it made Frank a bit jaded. Which was why when he looked out his window (at two in the morning no less) to see flashing lights of green and blue coming from within the Riddle house accompanied by screams of terror and bellows of rage, he thought it was nothing more than the boys getting too rowdy.

Grabbing his lantern from off the kitchen counter, he hobbled his way out of his house and down the cobbled path to the Riddle Manor. "Blasted kids!" he mumbled to himself as he moved towards the imposing structure, his stiff leg groaning in protest at the harsh treatment.

He halted in his tracks as a long, drawn out scream reached his ears. He had heard screams like that before, plenty of times even. During the war. That was the last sound a man makes before he dies.

"_Bombarder!_" someone shouted from inside the mansion, and Frank's eyes widened as an explosion rocked through the air, reminiscent to that of the old mortar cannons that they had had back in the old days. Debris flew over the poor caretaker's head as a massive hole was blown in the side of the wall on the second story. Frank watched in disbelief as a young man with shaggy brown hair, wild eyes, and oversized trench coat leaped out of the hole, a piece of wood in one hand and a bundle of cloth pressed to his chest in the other. With determination set in his eyes, he pointed his wand at himself. "_Arresto Momentum_!" he cried, and his fall quickly turned into almost a float, and he landed without even a single injury. Not pausing to look back, the man took off in a sprint away from the house, his brow drawn in concentration. He ran right past Frank, knocking him down in the process.

Frank watched in amazement as a ball of light was launched from the hole in the wall by some unseen assailant, the projectile's intended target clearly being the young man. However, within the space of a second the man stopped and turned on a dime, a triumphant grin on his face, before simply vanishing into thin air. The ball of blue light impacted on the ground where he had stood not a second beforehand, setting off yet another small explosion. A frustrated bellow echoed from the house, and then all fell silent.

Frank slowly eased himself up, his legs shaking as he cast about for his cane and lantern, mumbling prayer after prayer to himself as his poor old heart beat rapidly in his chest. After a few heart pounding seconds, his hand closed around the lantern, and he stood up to face the darkness. What met him was a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life. Not surprising, considering his life span had just been cut short.

Standing before him, at almost seven feet tall, was an incredibly muscled humanoid with yellow skin and hanging black dreadlocks. The creature's face was concealed by an alien looking mask, and along his chest was ornate looking armor, coupled with skulls and bones of long dead animals, like trophies. Before Frank had time to even process any of this, his attention was brought to the sharp *SHLINK* of the creature's wristblade being extended, the two foot long, serrated edge gleaming deadly in the moonlight.

The last thought that Frank had was a simple '_Pretty._' Odd that he would admire the weapon that would take his life.

The creature moved with fluid grace, as he snapped his arm forward and sank the blade straight through the old man's chest, piercing the center of his heart. Frank gasped as he felt the blood suddenly shoot up into his mouth, and he had just enough time to see the creature cock its head to the side in curiosity before the darkness of death clouded over his eyes. With a last sigh, Frank Bryce sagged on the blade impaling him, the old veteran finally dead.

The hunter swiftly retracted the wristblade, confusion roiling in his head. Why had this ooman not fought back like the other two had? Why had he simply stood there and let himself be gutted like some simple zabin*? It made no sense, when the other two oomans had fought like devils, and it had taken both him and his partner's combined efforts to take down even one of pale weaklings.

He was startled out of his confusion as a heavy hand came down on his head in an admonishing slap, and the young yautja spun around to snarl in warning. He was met with a backhand to the face, which temporarily shorted out his facemask's interior view screens. "Jako you Pauk'da! Why the hell did you kill him! This ooman was s'yuit-de, an old man. He posed no challenge to you!" his partner bellowed in his face.

Unlike Jako, whose skin was fairly standard of their race, his partner's was a dark gray, and his frame even more heavily muscled. His face mask was far more intricate than that of the younger Yautja, and even more skulls adorned his armor. He was a veteran hunter, an elite, and far superior to the newly blooded Jako.

Still, Jako was no push over himself.

"I thought he was like the other two! I didn't expect him to just stand there and let me kill him!" Jako cried, pushing the gray skinned warrior away from him. He was again smacked in the face for his efforts, a condescending gesture indicating extreme annoyance.

"Idiot! That ooman didn't even have a trace of bhu'ja. He was nothing like the others!" the larger yautja said harshly, his mandibles clicking furiously behind his mask. He continued to stare down the smaller hunter until Jako finally dropped his angry stance, lowering his head in a signal of submission. "I… apologize, Yazuac," he said, each word coming out gratingly, like it hurt just to say them. Serves the younger hunter right, though. His ego was far too large for a hunter of his limited experience. It was good for him to have it deflated occasionally.

Yazuac shook his head. "Make sure to follow my lead next time. You may be blooded, and a full hunter in the eyes of the council, but you are still inexperienced when it comes to the pyode amedha."

This was the first time that Jako had ever been to Earth, and he had only ever heard of stories of the strange creatures that inhabited this place. Oomans were fun to hunt: they were weak, yet ingenious, and had strange moral codes that made them perfect hunts, not too hard, but not too easy. Still, he had never heard of oomans that could do the things that the ones with the sticks could, and he was confused as to why the stories had never spoken of such creatures.

Surely the council would love to hear about these strange oomans that glowed with bhu'ja on their scanners. He wondered briefly how Yazuac knew where to find them, but his thoughts were interrupted as the larger hunter turned away from him and started back to their ship. "Come on, Jako. We still have a tournament to attend!" he called.

Jako rolled his eyes under his mask. There it was, the only reason they were here: Yazuac had received an invitation of some sort from an ooman on this planet to attend some kind of tournament that these strange oomans held. Feats of strength, intelligence, and the likes. And the Elite had chosen Jako to accompany him on the trip.

"Coming Uncle," Jako called, before stepping off after the gray skinned predator. If the oomans with the bhu'ja were so skilled that they could successfully evade two blooded yautja, then Jako was very interested to see what kind of challenges they would have in a tournament of their own. It would no doubt be interesting to watch.

* * *

Hogwarts has been known to be many things. Home to magic students? Check. Housing for a giant basilisk? Check. Cite of legendary battles throughout the ages? Triple Check.

For Harry Potter, it had been his first true home. His first genuine sanctuary, where he could get away from all the terrible things the world seemed to spit out at him. At Hogwarts, there were no Dursleys. At Hogwarts, there were no chores to be done. At Hogwarts, he could be exactly what he wanted to be: a child, dreaming the incredible dreams of his future.

Although, at Hogwarts, he did have to deal with an angry Dark Lord that tried to kill him at least once a year. And some very biased students who were constantly judging him. But all in all, it was worth it just to spend time in the castle.

Harry let out a sigh of contentment. He was heading back to his home. His true home. His head bobbed from side to side as the train car they were riding hit a small bump on the line, disturbing him from his musings.

A rustling from the seat across from him caused him to raise his head in curiosity. A small grin spread on his face as he laid eyes on the two best friends he had in this world: Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.

Hermione was currently burying her nose in the magical newspaper, the Daily Prophet, while Ron was poking her in the side while munching on some sweet that he had bought from the trolley lady.

"C'mon, Hermione! You've been hogging the paper for the last half hour! Let me have a look now!" he said, trying to tug the paper from the annoyed witch in between bites.

Hermione looked up and gave him an evil eye. "I've told you a thousand times, Ronald. Don't speak with your mouth full. And besides, you're making a gross exaggeration. We've only been on the train for about ten minutes!" she said, her brow furrowing as he tried to tug the newspaper out of her hands again, before snatching at back firmly. "You can wait a little longer!"

Ron scowled and folded his arms with a small *hmph* and gave Harry a look that said 'Can you believe this woman?'

Harry shook his head at their antics, before looking back out the window as the scenery whizzed by, the rolling hills of England a sight that he rarely ever saw.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione's voice suddenly cried, and Harry turned his head to look back at the girl. She was brandishing the newspaper in his face, and Harry caught a glimpse of the image on the front page: a giant skull, floating in the sky, with a snake uncoiling from its mouth. "They've been trying to cover it up," she hissed, her displeasure practically dripping off of her words. "I can't believe they would just ignore something like this! We saw them, those were _Death Eaters_! Not crazy drunks."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. Sometimes the wizarding world could be so idiotic, and during those times Harry truly wondered which world was more primitive: the muggle world, or the wizarding one. He didn't know the answer to that question, so he let it slip from his mind. He had learned long ago it was best to stay away from those kinds of thoughts, as they usually brought up dark memories of his childhood. Memories he definitely didn't want to resurface.

"Bloody typical if you ask me." Ron added as he stuffed the last of the sweet into his mouth. "Those rotten Sods don't even know when to fess up and admit that they had no control over this thing."

Hermione pursed her lip as she glanced back down at the paper. "Agreed," she said softly.

Harry winced in pain as a sudden hot flash of pain spiked through his head, originating from the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Casually raising his hand, he rubbed at his scar, memories of the strange dreams he had been having flashing through his head.

Visions of green and blue lights, strange men with yellow skin and masks and dreadlocks, and large black creatures with no eyes, shiny plated skin, and wicked teeth.

Hermione's keen eyes caught the gesture, and she instantly reformed her face into her customary scowl. "It's hurting again, isn't it? Your scar?" she asked. Harry nodded. The girl was far too observant.

"You'll know Sirius will want to hear about this," she said, leaning forward to stare at Harry with her big brown doe eyes. "Both the scar, and the dreams."

Harry nodded, a small smile spreading across his face at the thought of his godfather. Sirius had actually been the inspiration for a project that Harry had been working on all summer long, with the Dursley's complete unawareness of course. With the help of several books he had 'borrowed' from the School Library at the end of his third year, coupled with the seeming lack of wand work this particular branch of magic offered, he had been able to almost completely master the art over the summer.

That's right. Harry Potter was almost an animagus.

He had gotten all the steps down. Clear your mind. Concentrate. Feel the magic bubble up inside you. Force it to change and flow throughout your body. Let your soul _sing _with what it wants to be!

With his forced isolation at the Dursleys, he had nothing better to do with his time. Now all that remained was to perform a simple potions imbuing and a very complicated piece of spell-work, both of which he could only perform when he finally arrived at Hogwarts, for obvious reasons.

He was itching with excitement to see what his animagus form would be. All the books he had read had talked about how a prospective witch or wizard would usually begin to feel another consciousness forming inside their minds that was the animal form of their soul. And Harry could definitely feel his.

He guessed he must be some kind of predator, as the other consciousness always seemed to be pacing back and forth, always uneasy about something or other, and whenever he tapped into it, he would always get the most violent of urges, like the sudden desire to throw Hedwig's cage across the room or bludgeon Dudley to death with one of his textbooks.

At first, the impulses had been almost overwhelming, with the other consciousness constantly screaming at him to defend himself, but over time Harry eventually managed to get it to calm down. Talking to it often helped, even though it never responded. Harry would occasionally get flashes of pure emotion coming from the creature, like anger whenever Dudley intentionally knocked him down, and envy whenever Petunia would coddle Dudley and not Harry.

The other seemed to be almost obsessed with Aunt Petunia for some reason, and Harry would occasionally hear words like _Mother_, or _Nest,_ or, even more confusing,_ Queen. _They would always happen at random times, but always when he was directly interacting with the matriarch.

Conversely, it seemed to hate Uncle Vernon with a passion that was unmatched by anything Harry had ever witnessed. Even Voldemort's hatred for Harry was eclipsed by the sheer level of rage that the predator would direct towards Vernon, and Harry would sometimes (very, very rarely) hear words like _Mongrel, Egg-breaker, _or, rarest of all, _Predator._ It left Harry baffled, and he honestly couldn't explain the reasoning behind such treatment.

The creature (whatever it was) held Dudley in a sort of grudging respect. It was sort of a sibling rivalry relationship, what with the fat boy obviously being the favored son in the household. The creature hated Dudley for that, and would always grow agitated whenever Harry was present during the coddling. It especially hated the word _Dudders_, the baby name grating on its senses whenever Petunia crooned it out in her horribly sweet voice.

The other had only ever said two words about Dudley, and this was when the whale had pushed him down yet again (fourth time that day actually). Harry had suddenly had the strong urge to, for lack of better word, hiss, and he had wanted to open his mouth as wide as he could and thrust his tongue out. Naturally he hadn't, but it had been the weirdest sensation ever. And then he had heard the creature's soft, sibilant voice whisper "_One day…_"

It was very ominous for Harry, and he had been more careful to keep himself away from his cousin from that point on.

The creature hadn't made any comments on Hermione and Ron yet, only a feeling of general contentment that Harry was finally being treated like a decent human being. Harry had felt it bristle when Ginny had hugged him however, and he must have transferred the gesture physically, for the redhead had given him the strangest look and instantly backed off.

All in all, Harry had no idea what it was going to be. No creature he had seen had ever acted like this, and the suspense was killing him. He couldn't wait until they got to Hogwarts and he could quietly slip away. He had already prepared the rudimentary components of the potion he would use, and the rest were relatively simple to get a hold of (if you knew where the Potions Closet was, which he did).

Harry had even thought as far ahead as to where he would do it: Chamber of Secrets. No one ever went down there, and it was quiet enough that he could focus on nothing but the transformation process, without any petty distractions.

He had considered letting Hermione and Ron in on his scheme, but had eventually decided against it, predicting Hermione's protests ("It's illegal Harry," "Don't you know how dangerous that is," "You could go to Azkaban!") and Ron's big mouth ("You were training to be an animagus and you didn't tell your best mate?!" "Wait till Fred and George hear about this one!")

Yes, it was much better for him to do this on his own.

"Harry! Are you listening to me?!" Hermione's cry interrupted Harry's train of thought, startling him out of his reverie and shoving him back in the train cart.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, yeah, totally!" he stuttered. Hermione rolled her eyes while Ron guffawed. Looking at Hermione, Ron's blue eyes suddenly took on a mischievous glint, and he reached over and snagged the paper out of Hermione's unsuspecting hands.

"**_Honestly_** Ronald!?"

* * *

The sorting went by quickly, with several new members added to each of the houses. Everyone in the Great Hall was shocked to learn that the Tri-wizard tournament was not only being resurrected, but it was going to be held at Hogwarts no less.

Harry felt the creature stir as the boys from Durmstrang walked by. The other did not like the way they practically oozed hostility, and Harry felt the creature's hackles (if that's what it had) rise. 'Easy boy' he thought, mentally soothing the creature and pressing warm, cooling thoughts against that part of his mind. 'They're not going to hurt you.'

He felt the creature give a disbelieving snort as it watched the bulging muscles on the men's arms, and images of those arms being ripped off filled Harry's mind. Shaking his head from side to side, Harry mentally swatted the creature. 'Knock it off, we're surrounded by witches and wizards who would back us up in a fight. Relax.'

Harry let out a sigh as the creature finally followed his orders and "lay down" so to speak. He could still feel it tense, but no more than usual.

He did not see that the magical eye of the newly appointed Alastor Moody rarely left him.

Dinner went by in a hurry, and soon the Gryffindors were departing the Great Hall for their dormitories, laughing and singing songs, happy to be back in the castle. Harry was heartened a bit when the creature began to pick up on the good vibe, purring in contentment at the feeling of camaraderie. "_Nest-mates,_" he heard the creature hiss, which caused him to pause.

What was that supposed to mean?

Shaking his head, Harry pushed the thoughts to the back of his head. He would get his answers soon enough.

After sitting through the customary first year meeting, they were dismissed back up to their individual dormitories. Harry traipsed up with Ron and Neville, feigning tiredness when in actuality he was wide awake with excitement. Bidding the others goodnight, Harry crawled into bed and pulled his curtains closed around him, watching as his roommates exchanged a few words, before individually the lights began to go out. Harry let out a sigh of relief as his roommates' breathing began to level out, indicating that they had at last fell asleep.

Harry let another hour pass by before he finally sat up and slipped his feet out of the covers. His mental animal was wide awake and ready, a steady rumble in the back of his mind. Clearly whatever the creature was, it preferred the darkness to any sort of light. Obviously nocturnal.

Harry opened up his trunk and grabbed the essentials: book, collapsible cauldron, canteen containing the basic potion, the marauders map, and his invisibility cloak. Moving quietly, he crept out of the dormitory under the cover of the cloak and slipped through the portrait invisibly, his movements so soft and quiet that he didn't even wake the fat lady.

Moving through the corridors, he kept one arm locked securely around his supplies while the other held the open marauders map, his eyes periodically flicking to the piece of parchment both to make sure he was on the right track and to ensure that no one was sneaking up on him. He stopped at the door to the Potions Closet, and after a whispered incantation (_"Alohamora!"_) he pushed the door open. His green eyes darted around, his wand tip providing illumination as he read off the list of ingredients he would need.

"Hex-lax, Lacewing flies, Arbiocres, Dragon essence, and Tibetan mistletoe," he said to himself as he gathered up the necessary ingredients as he said their name. Casting his eyes back down at his list, he nodded again before shutting the door quietly, making sure to leave it exactly as he had found it.

The corridors seemed to stretch on endlessly, and when he finally reached the second floor girl's bathroom, he sighed with relief. Opening the door, he slipped in, his inner predator purring in contentment at how efficient his movements were.

Stepping towards the sink, he let the cloak slip off his figure and pool in his right hand, bundling it up and tucking inside his shirt. Pushing his glasses up onto his nose from where they had slipped, his green eyes locked onto the intricately carved snake on the fake sink faucet.

He could just imagine the snake wiggling about. Like it was real.

**_~"Open"~ _**he hissed.

With a rumbling of gears, the sink sank into the floor, once again revealing the yawning hole that was the entrance to the chamber, just like it had two years ago when he had first arrived here. It looked smaller than it had back then, but then Harry just assumed it was because he had grown so much in that time period.

Making sure that everything was secure, he jumped down into the hole, enjoying the few moments of free fall before the tunnel angled and turned into a slide. The wind swept through his hair, threatening to tear his glasses from his face, forcing Harry to grab onto them and subsequently almost forget about the pile of bones at the end of tunnel.

Snapping his legs down smartly, Harry landed lightly on both his feet with nary a stumble. Instantly his nose wrinkled as the smell of death and decay hit him. He had forgotten how smelly it was when he had first come down here. The other consciousness, however, seemed to relish it, stretching languidly in his mind, like a cat with a saucer of milk. 'What's got you feeling so happy?' he thought, before moving away from the entrance to the chamber.

Harry made his way through the twisting corridors, past the fifty foot long snake skin, and through the second entrance leading to the chamber proper. All the while, the creature was purring and making soft crooning sounds, one of its appendages (probably its tail, if it had one) wagging back and forth in happiness. "Seriously, what has you so happy? There's nothing here but empty, moldy tunnels?!" Harry asked aloud as he strode down the main aisle of the chamber, the carved serpents flanking him on either side.

'_Dark. Warm. Would make good nest._' Was his answer.

Harry halted in his tracks, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What?" he asked.

No reply.

Shaking his head, Harry continued to walk until the skeletal remains of the Basilisk came into view, the once poisonous green scales having by now faded to a dull, listless gray where they still hung from the bones and bits of flesh. Harry once again wrinkled his nose at the stench, the rotting meat filling the air with a ghastly smell.

Setting his potion materials down, he quickly lit a fire with his wand and placed the collapsible cauldron atop it. Uncapping his canteen, he allowed the contents of the basic solution to pour into the cauldron, the book open in his other hand as he followed the instructions carefully. Contrary to popular belief, Harry was actually relatively good at potions. It was the simple fact that Snape's classroom was so smokey, the instructions almost illegible, and his naturally bad eyesight that led him to making terrible marks in his class.

In a period of an hour, the potion was a delightful sky blue color, the exact shade that the book had specified. With a flick of his wand, Harry put out the fire and took the cauldron off the ring. Setting it down on the ground, he took a deep breath and pointed his wand at it, reading aloud an incantation "_Indicate mihi anima tua, et forma fit unum._"

Immediately the potion turned a bright golden, and began to bubble and froth. Harry's smile was reflected a thousand times across the dark chamber as the golden light hit his shining teeth, sending sparkles across the cave. Taking out his goblet, Harry dipped it into the bubbling solution and raised it up to eye level.

"Well, Dad, I hope you're watching me!" he whispered, excitement roiling around in his stomach as the golden glow reflected off of his glasses.

"Bottoms up!" he cried, before tilting the goblet to his lips and gulping the mixture down. He smacked his lips at the strange taste (sort of watery, but with an abundance of bubbles, like champagne without the aftertaste).

Suddenly, Harry keeled over as a fire hit him straight in the gut, as if he had been physically hit by some unseen assailant. Dropping to his knees, Harry opened his mouth in a wordless gasp as the fire spread throughout his body, igniting his muscles and bubbling in his bones.

This was all expected, though. This was a normal part of the transformation. Harry had read so.

What happened next was not.

The painful heat vanished abruptly, leaving Harry confused and disoriented, before suddenly his insides _twisted. _Harry fell to the Chamber floor as a scream of pain escaped his mouth, echoed by the chamber walls and magnified. Harry began to writhe in agony as his organs started to rearrange themselves, his liver moving forward while his kidneys and solar plexes elongated, causing grotesque ripples to appear on his skin.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AH! AGH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Harry's hands formed into a fist an even greater pain hit him. His bones! They were moving _up_! Harry's scream was long and uninterrupted as his bones splintered and fragmented, pulling themselves apart at the marrow, before pressing up through his flesh to rest on top of his skin. His robes were by now soaked in rivers of blood as the red liquid sloshed forth from his body, pushed outwards as his body turned itself inside out.

Harry rolled around and around on the ground as he felt new bones regrowing while his limbs began to stretch an pull, narrowing as they did so. His clothes disappeared as his entire formed pulled out, elongating and becoming thinner, every muscle and tendon in his body screaming in pain. Harry became aware of a high pitched keening that sounded like something a rat would make as it was skinned alive. Harry's brain almost shut down when he realized it was himself making the noise.

He rolled onto his stomach, his rear arching into the air as his lower tailbone broke through what remained of his skin. The naked bones then began to lengthen to three times his whole body length, the white bone slick with blood that was strangely discolored, no longer red, but more of an acidic green. Muscles were forced out of his flesh as well, growing at a prolific rate along the tail bones, wrapping around each individual ligament and growing cartilage and reinforced plates as it formed constructed a brand new working limb. Harry thought his brain was going to melt as the unprotected ends of his lower nerves began to thread themselves through the bone and sinew, creating the most unbelievable burning sensation as his brain was literally forced to cope with the addition of a new appendage. At the end of the tail the bone was pulled and stretched until it formed a cruel spike, wickedly curved and horrible to look at. Harry tore his eyes away as the transformation took a swing towards another area.

His head.

Harry's screams redoubled in volume as he felt his skull tighten and pull, his hair receding wickedly fast as his skin began to peel off. His ears disappeared, along with nose, which began to arch up. He felt his brain pull as well, sloshing about in its cranial fluid that began to leak down into his mouth, creating the most horrible flavor on his taste buds.

Harry's breath was cut short at the excruciating pain that was his eyes being dissolved and pulled apart while his skull continued to stretch along with the rest of his body, as well as moving to the surface just like the rest of his body, shredding whatever was left of his skin. His scar seemed to move with the bone, the darkened lightning bolt barely visible through all the blood.

His hands scrabbled along the ground blindly in an insane attempt to claw away from the pain, before finally his body was given over to muscle spasms. His hands bubbled with blood as each bone was forced to the surface while a new bone replaced it, the delicate flesh between the two bones being eradicated as new layer upon layer of hard sinewy muscle replaced it.

Harry opened his mouth again to scream, but he was greeted with the horror of having to listen as his human voice began to warp and pitch as his vocal chords were tightened, jumping up octaves to become an animalistic shriek, which grew even louder as his tongue exploded, replaced by a strange contraption of cartilage, bone, and muscle. The shriek became a double shriek as Harry worked both of his jaws in howling out his pain.

His head crest finally finished its growth, easily three feet long and about a foot wide, sloping at the sides and completely smooth.

Claws grew out of his hands and feet as the last of his human flesh was removed and covered up by white shiny bone, the pool of acidic green blood bubbling strangely on the stone floor.

In a climactic finale to the horrible transformation, Harry arched his back and new tail as two bones pushed up through his back plates and connected with his new spine, before shooting high in the air and arching back. Harry felt the bones growing fingers and skin, allowing other, more powerful muscles to grow around each digit.

In his almost brain dead state, Harry somehow found the will power to label the new appendages: _wings._

Almost as a final touch, spines began to shoot up from along his spinal cord, tracing all along his back and branching on both sides of his tail. Two spikes protruded out of each of his shoulders, their weight dragging him even deeper into the floor as he lay there panting, not even able to muster the energy to scream anymore.

In a final shiver, his body stopped growing, leaving him at a whopping seven feet long, not counting the tail. A casual observer would then begin to note that the white bone acting as his new exoskeleton at this point began to shrivel, turning from white to gray, and from gray to a clear, shiny black that glinted wickedly in the dim light of Chamber.

They would then proceed to shit themselves due to how lethal the creature looked. Claws. Teeth. Spines. Spikes. Tail spike. Double jaw. Deadly razor wings. Huge crest.

In his last blurry moments of lucidity, Harry felt the other consciousness moving forward in his mind, a feeling he had never felt before. He felt his body rise up without his command, his previously screaming muscles now singing with joy and eagerness.

_"Free!"_ the other cried, using Harry's new voice to scream it into the darkness of the chamber.

"_I am finally FREE! HA HA HA HA HA HA!_" it shrieked, rearing up on two feet and spreading its wings.

Harry fainted, his awareness of the world falling away completely, and the body slumped to the floor.

* * *

_Indicate mihi anima tua, et forma fit unum- _RoughlyLatin for "Reveal your soul and become one"

* * *

Zabin- Insect

Pauk'da- Moron/Idiot/Fucker

S'yuit-de- Pathetic

Bhu'ja- Ghost/Soul/Spirit

* * *

**Okay, I know that transformation scene might have sickened some of you, but I have to say, I like how it turned out. The reason for the title, Alien Freak, will explain the two extra apendages Harry has that no other alien has yet had. That's why the picture is probably the best representation of Harry's alien form. Next chapter will be meeting the "other" face to face.**

**Please review this, I worked very hard to bring it to you. Thanks so much for reading it.**

**Have a good break, and Merry Christmas (if you're christian) and Happy Holidays to everyone else.**

**Rate and review- **Arudon


	2. Author's Note

Alright everyone, listen up. I'm sorry if this is upsetting, but I am officially abandoning this story.

To be completely honest, this story was not supposed to be big. It was more of an experiment than anything else: I wanted to see if I could write in a descriptive/semi-disturbing manner. That's how it started. And to be honest, I consider it a complete success. I accomplished what I set out to do: turn Harry into a Xenomorph, one that was completely unique to me. However, like everything else I write, the story took on a life of its own, and before I knew it it had plot, character, and a lot of potential.

All of which I was not prepared to write. Honestly, I feel like an teenage parent: I wasn't prepared to take care of this fic and give it the love it deserves.

That's why I'm putting it up for adoption. I want my baby to find a good home.

If you are a competent writer and have an interest in this story, please contact me. I will send you the first chapter via DocX.

However, like I said before, I have a vision for this story, and if you do choose to write this, I have a certain plot that I'd like for you to follow. It's not much, mostly just a skeleton with which you could work with, but a plot-line nonetheless. Think of it as a challenge.

This story will be a tragedy. People will die (many of which will be entirely unexpected) and will involve the loss of sanity, gruesome violence, and a lot of tears.  
This is not a happy story.

If you feel you are capable of writing this, please contact me and I will send you the full plot summary in detail. Please don't hesitate; I really want to see this story up and on its feet.

Again, I'm sorry if this comes as a shock, and I hope that one of you will contact me soon. To the rest of you, I bid you adieu.

-Arudon

* * *

**Oh god, I'm crying. I'm actually crying. I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry.**


End file.
